The Taste Of Ink
by SheepAmongstWolves12
Summary: Katniss has repressed her father's death for years. Can an encounter with a renown young tattoo artist encourage her to move on and possibly blossom into something more than just a working relationship over needles and ink? Features TattooArtist!Peeta.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

I'm in a funk. A horrible case of funk, whereby It's been a while since I've posted anything and I feel terrible for not updating 'Melancholy' and 'Stolen'. Due to exam prep, work commitments (I worked on Christmas Day…*sigh* )and because I don't want to antagonize my delightful beta with my drabbles over the Christmas holidays, both 'Melancholy' and 'Stolen' are on hiatus until the end of January (last day of my exams). I'm giving up writing smut too, I just can't seem to do it anymore, but no matter. I'm open to questions, either by PM or on my tumblr at SheepAmongstWolves12. Get following and I will do my best to answer

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Hunger Games, the characters, settings, anything! I just occasionally like to borrow them and put them in my own awkward and strange circumstances.

And now, I give you TattooArtist!Peeta This will be a four-part, alternate universe scenario, stretched over the time span of about 2/ 3 and a half months to make sense with Katniss's tattoo healing period and her development/ relationship with Peeta. It will be M rated purely on the basis of language, Finnick's "humour" and maybe some nudity…but I'd like to stress the absolute absence of sexual scenarios/descriptions.

Hope you enjoy and Happy New Year Everyone!

* * *

I step into the studio, expecting a darkened, shabby, dimly lit dive of a place, with dirty needles and broken light fixtures. Where the walls should be dirty and defaced with graffiti, there is an abundance of colour and vitality that reverberates off of them. I clutch my hand bag a little tighter; my fingers curling around the flimsy plastic handle as my feet scarcely make a sound, my boots rubbing the old wooden floor, complete with the necessary wear and tear that accompanies the old buildings in this area.

My gaze diverts from the walls to a glass display case that also doubles up as a desk, showing various coloured body jewellery: glow in the dark belly bars, diamond nose studs, novelty belt buckles, rings of various semi-precious stones, tapers, coils and instruments used for stretching and plugging as well as bottles of solution for taking care of and cleaning piercings.

I'm so engrossed in the colours that I hardly notice the sound of footsteps; swift and quick as a guy wearing a yellow Sex Pistols shirt with grey rolled up sleeves stands behind the desk, a set of intense sea weed coloured eyes glowing from underneath a mop of auburn coloured hair.

"Hi there, I'm Finnick, can I help you?" I notice the small part of his eyebrow that doesn't appear to have grown back, and suspect that it was an eyebrow piercing gone wrong that appears to have caused this gap.

Apart from that, Finnick a beautiful specimen of a man, standing at six foot easily, with baggy jeans, the Sex Pistols shirt stretching over his broad shoulders and illustrating his rippling abs. He'd easily pass for a model if his arms were covered up and his hair slicked back.

"I'm…I'm looking for Peeta…Peeta Mellark…I had an appointment with him for two" I say, my nerves creeping into my voice, making me sound like a deranged school girl.

Finnick smiles at me again before pulling out a large consultation book, his fingers flicking wildly through the pages, searching for today's date. It's only when his arms are resting on the counter that I notice the sheer volume of ink that coats his skin. Portraits of family members in black and white, an anchor and a trident crossing each other, black and red stars cross the skin of his bicep, a vivid red haired mermaid; her long tail a brilliant mess of greens, yellows and copper enhancing each individual scale, dives into a brilliantly blue ocean. On his wrist, in what appears to be a free hand scrawl, I make out the name 'Anna-Maria', in loopy, curling letters, written in the same shade of brilliant red as the mermaid's hair.

I'm absorbed into the eyes of the mermaid; she seems so beautifully real, so perfect, as if she could really move through the waves tattooed on Finnick's arm, her powerful tail beating against the elements. I fail to notice the faint rustling of the pages as Finnick coughs abruptly, bringing me back to reality as I break my gaze on his beautiful mermaid.

"Don't worry, I'm glad you were staring at her…. if nothing else" he cocks an eyebrow in my direction and dazzles me with a smile that is full of pearly white, perfectly straightened teeth before winking at me. "She's my favourite, I got her when I was nineteen and working as apprentice for Haymitch Abernathy. He gave her to me when he finally thought I was good enough to leave him and start my own studio. She's a symbol of continuation, progress, beauty and dedication to my craft."

He strokes his arm softly, as if he were brushing his fingertips through the flowing scarlet tendrils of the mermaid's hair.

"Her eyes" I find myself saying before being able to render the words with any coherent thought or structure.

Finnick looks up at me, his eyes kind and appreciative at my gibberish sounding remark.

"You're not the first one to say that; they really are creepy, aren't they? Hauntingly so, as if she's looking straight into your soul and dragging you underneath the waves with her"

"They look human,…I mean…as if they really were human eyes…"

Finnick smiles sadly before caressing his skin with the tug of his grey sleeve, concealing her from my view and I can't help but feel as if I've touched a major nerve, yet I act indifferent.

"So, you're Katniss Everdeen?" he asks, his voice back to business.

"Yes…. yes I am" I reply feebly.

"Please go on through and take a seat in the next room, Peeta is just having lunch; he was really busy this morning with accounts, so he skipped out on food, poor guy"

I'm about to leave the charismatic Finnick and turn towards the arched gap in the wall, where the boundaries of the shop and the studio aren't defined and one flows into another, when a smaller, dirty blonde haired guy walks through, a dirty rag in his hand as he tosses it at Finnick's head.

His eyes are beautiful and fleeting, as is his smile, warm and stunning, similar to Finnick's.

"Hi there, I'm Peeta Mellark" he extends his hand to me and I am melting under that easy going charm and those eyes.

"K-Katniss E-Everdeen, nicetomeetyou" I grasp his hand firmly and shake back, hoping the gesture will explain more than my rushed and convoluted attempt at a sentence will.

"If you'd like to go on ahead in and wait for me in my office, I'll be with you shortly, Katniss" he purrs, his eyes never leaving mine. I don't even think it's intentional, but it makes me melt even more. My innards feel like a chocolate fondant, leaking gooey messy feelings at this guy's manner and charisma as Peeta walks out onto the shop floor.

I pass through Finnick's studio, complete with a collection of heavy metal, grunge and punk CDs on one shelf, whilst a large sound system blares what sounds like "Red Hot Moon" by Rancid on repeat. The walls are wallpapered with various band posters and a foldable bed takes up the majority of the room, with a large, full body mirror standing at the opposing end of the room. A chest of drawers is labelled with different colours, refills of paint, different parts for the tattoo machine and other necessities, such as aftercare lotion, disinfectant, rubber gloves and surgical masks.

I hear the two guys talking aloud as I determine which of the two doors I'm meant to pass through, before hearing Finnick call back to me and turning around.

"Mind yourself Katniss! He may look cute but he's a total beast!" I can hear Finnick shout and my lips crinkle into a smile.

"Finn, will you stop trying to turn on the charm with every single, good- looking girl that walks through the door please? I know I don't really stand a chance, but it's nice to think that I might from time to time….And I'm not a sex fiend, unlike you" I hear Peeta say, a twinge of anger in his voice.

"It's not my fault Peet. I mean, honestly, look at me….who wouldn't want this?!" Finnick purrs seductively and lifts up his shirt to reveal cheese grater abdominal muscles, which frighten me a little. I feel myself blush and my eyes immediately drop to my brown leather boots as the two guys joke around, flinging insults back and forth to each other.

"C'mon, you'll make her feel nervous! Just do what I said and stop scaring all the pretty girls that walk by, it's bad for business."

"Not my business!" Finnick winks, before gyrating his hips so that he appears to be humping the air in front of him. Peeta rolls his eyes to the ceiling. My stomach jolts restlessly at the sight of him.

"That's exactly why we don't have business Finnick! You keep on seducing all the female clientele! " groans Peeta, his palm covering his eyes in frustration.

"Well, there's one waiting for you in your office, Mr Mellark…. I'll let you win for once, it'll be refreshing" grins Finnick.

"You're lucky you're my best friend, I'd toss your ass out right now otherwise"

I hear Peeta's heavy trod and he smiles at me, his eyes apologetic and remorseful.

"Apologies about Finn…he can be a proper ignoramus at times… I hope he didn't offend you"

"S' okay" I stammer, trying not to trip up on my own words.

Peeta leads us through to his office, twisting the light dial on as we cross the threshold. I was expecting it to be decorated similarly to the rest of the shop, but it's not and the shock factor hits me at how rich and modest the room is; burnt orange walls, similar to the shade of saffron encapsulate the room, appearing even blurrier in the faint, dim lights. Peeta twists the dial so that the lights are clear and everything in the room appears to be static and crisp, from the plush cream carpet beneath our feet, to the luxurious looking fabric sofa that sits in a corner of the room, complete with a coffee table and a mahogany bookstand, with this month's latest issue of "Inked" sitting daintily beside a couple of Penguin classics, their faint orange and white covers and a new copy of Hemingway's 'The Sun Also Rises'. A large desk sits in the corner, complete with a stack of drawings pinned to the wall beside the mounting files, portfolio books and stationary scattered all over the surface.

"Forgive the mess….Katniss, please, take a seat, would you like coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee, thank you"

He disappears for a few minutes as I take a turn about the room, noticing the framed certificates that hang above Peeta's desk. Glancing over the rich, yellow papered, gold rimmed documents with beautiful royal blue borders and ordained calligraphy, I notice that its Peeta's name on the certificate. Not only is Peeta Mellark known for his incredible skill as a tattoo artist and completely and utterly bangable, but he is also a graduate of Pat's. The beautiful, quiet tattoo artist is a graduate of one of the most prestigious, priciest colleges in the entire country, and all before the age of what I'm guesstimating twenty two or three.

Peeta returns a few minutes later, two mugs clutched in his hands and it's only when he says "are you okay?" that my breath catches and my heart drops like a stone, down into the pit of my stomach.

_Shit, I've been caught._

I still, turning slowly so I can gather some composure and not make an even bigger fool of myself in front of Peeta, my eyes trained on the ground, arms folded across my chest, feeling the red flush spread across my face.

"Parents insisted that I got an education before I went off and as they so eloquently put it, 'fiddled around with my drawings and scribbled all over myself'. But it still gives me the option to go out and "get a real job" if the shop goes bust one day", his fingers make inverted commas in the air and I can't help but notice the sting of bitterness in his voice at the last remark.

" Please Katniss, come, sit down" he says, and I'm all too aware of his immediate presence and even more jumpy when I feel his palm cup my elbow, my eyes meeting his, grey green on blue. The moment holds us for longer than it should, both of us apparently trying to search for something in the other's eyes, yet not finding it.

I blink and the moment is shattered into a million pieces, the pair of us moving towards the couch. It's only when he sits down across from me, handing me the mug, that I really take Peeta's physical presence in, noticing how different he's dressed to Finnick; a buttoned up checked black and red shirt that fits him perfectly, the sleeves completely rolled down to his wrists and old fashioned braces are clipped to his pants, stretched over his shoulders and joining the opposite side of his body. His jeans show off a perfectly sculpted backside and look expensive over a pair of Vans. Piercing, sapphire blue eyes dominate his face, framed by a mope of dirty blonde loose curls, brushing against his defined jaw line, definitive hints of stubble dotting his throat, cheeks and chin, which (for some ungodly, unknown reason) I want to slowly drag my tongue across in the opposite direction of growth.

The eyes are on me again.

I mentally pray that he can't read my face or guess what I'm thinking.

_Is it that obvious? Stop talking to yourself, Katniss._

Peeta cocks his head to the side, and he's now using his eyes and his smile on me.

Fuck.

I blush at him, I can't seem to help turning rose pink at his crooked smile, flawed and gorgeous and heart melting.

_I'm melting. I, Katniss Everdeen, the ice queen, am melting._

And the feeling is so foreign and oddly sublime that I'm trying hard to stop myself from showing, how confused and emotional puzzled he's leaving me.

I don't know anything about him.

I don't know him at all, and perhaps it's the lack of man in my life that causes this placebo effect the Peeta is having upon me.

_He's a boy, I'm a girl….Biology, hormones, natural instinct and loneliness are valid reasons for my interest in Peeta._

_You're a customer, you're paying him to spend time drawing on you, of course he has to be nice to you, it's nothing special or more than that_.

"So, you said over the phone that you wanted to talk about a design of have you come for something else?" he smiles at me, a slip of pink flesh protruding from his mouth, wetting his lips before ducking them to the rim of the mug, his eyes fixed on mine.

I reach down into my bag and pull out the design that my father drew when he was still alive. I take out the carefully etched drawing, being mindful of the aged, yellowed paper and admire the feel of the lead lines engraved into the paper, forgetting where one began and the other ended, as if neither had ever been single entities but had rather become symbiotic, greater and complemented each other.

"My, erm…Dad drew this bird, this great winged creature that was meant to be a mythical creature called a Mockingjay. He said that it originated from ancient times and was overlooked as a mythical beast in comparison to the l-likes of unicorns, dragons and centaurs because they didn't appear in stories….Anyways I was hoping to h-have it here" I point to my ribcage before sliding the heel of my hand along the fabric of my white t shirt.

Peeta continues to sip from his mug whilst taking the drawing from me, his eyes scrutinizing it, watching the delicate lines and precise width of the lines in the details. For several minutes, he sips and stares at the aging drawing, unable to tear his eyes away from it whilst I fidget uncomfortably in the silence.

I nearly wet myself when his eyes meet mine and he speaks quietly, "Tell me more about the Mockingjay and why you want it tattooed on you".

"Why?" the word slips out without any conscious control from my brain.

_FUCK! _

"Because, Katniss, I like to get to know my subject and the story behind it….this is going on you forever, until the day you die and I want to do my utmost best to make it as splendid on your skin as it does on this page….i can nearly imagine it now" his voice trails off, his eyes lingering on my lips.

I take a deep breath and try to remember all the details of the legend, it's been so long since I was little and could tell anyone the legend that I've loved and held so dearly for nearly twenty years. The legend of a father and a daughter that were separated before their time…

"The Mockingjay was created by the Gods of ancient Greece. Apparently, Zeus, the king of the Gods created a creature that was both godly and yet, it could die. The Mockingjay was created out of fire, water, earth and wind a combination that shouldn't work; the elements opposed and challenged each other. They were competitors, yet they were also symbiotic in nature; they depended on the other for survival, and the Mockingjay was the culmination of their powers. Zeus had created this guardian to ensure that both the heavens and the planets were protected should one element become too powerful or if a revolt should occur. The Mockingjay took the form of a large, golden winged bird, but instead of feathers, it was made of what appeared to be pure molten flame…."

I take a breath, feel the air clean out my lungs of the remaining carbon, the refreshing coolness filling my chest and Peeta's eyes, wide and filled with interest in my story.

"….yet when the bird reached down to Earth, it transformed into a human, a woman as beautiful as a forest nymph and a being of purer energy than one of the nine muses. Throughout the world, both gods and mortal men spoke of an angelic woman, with features that embodied similarities to each element…. Eyes as grey as storm clouds on a tempestuous horizon, lips as red as the embers used to forge a sword, hair as dark as the earth from which life sprung from, and finally a voice that was as fluid and strong as the sea. Zeus had created this creature had reared it like his own, to watch over the elements and the cosmos, yet he had never thought that she would fall in love and with a human nonetheless…"

I break off from the story, amazed and oddly surprised that I can recall all of the details so clearly after supressing them for so many years since dad's death when I was thirteen. Things hadn't been so clear after that, with mother's grieving and Prim's innocence and my confusion. Ever since that fateful day, I became Katniss the adult and left my childhood buried away somewhere in a pre-mature coffin.

I cough a little, clearing my throat. I don't want to go on about the Mockingjay now that I remember how the story ends…how dad always used to tear up when he told me of the Mockingjay's fate.

"Katniss…? Katniss, Katniss…" Peeta rocks me gently back and forth, breaking my memory and the tears that have threatened to fall make an appearance and come crashing down my face in waves.

"I'm s-s-sorry, i-it's j-just …"

Then my eyes flood and I can't control the forgotten emotion that I've tried for so long to forget. My hands cover my eyes, ashamed at my outburst in front of this stranger. This complete and utter stranger who wants to nose his way into my business and ask me things that are completely inappropriate and personal to me.

A pair of warm, muscled arms grip my upper frame and I allow myself to succumb to emotion and to Peeta's immediate sense of security and heat. We say nothing to each other for a few minutes, although it feels as if Peeta's been holding me for far too long, even if I was more than a mere stranger to him, which I'm not. I hold no right to this moment, to this immediate sense of comfort that has both stopped the tears from flowing but has also reassured me. Peeta rubs soothing circles into my back and he whispers so softly I could've sworn I imagined him asking me something.

"Tell me…what happens at the end, Katniss? The Mockingjay, what happens to her?"

I sniffle, breaking apart from Peeta's clutch and sit back, feeling the urge to curl up and hid away from the world.

"…The seasons passed, summer turned to winter, and the wind turned into snow, and the Mockingjay remained pristine and beautiful whilst the man she fell in love with died of the cold during that winter…She begged Zeus to bring him back to life, pleaded with him, promised him anything, but what could she offer the king of the Gods? When the Mockingjay realised that she couldn't bring her love back, she didn't want to live any longer without him…her heart turned to stone and eventually, so did she, existing as nothing more than a tale, a fantasy, a legend and her molten flames were reduced to nothing but dark and white stone, signifying the end of her life and the end of elemental control….."

"…Explains why it rains so much here" Peeta smiles at me.

I smile back at Peeta, I know he's trying to comfort me, but I can't tell him the significance of the story for me. It's the story of my parents, dad had said. It was only after he was gone that I realised the truth of his statement. Ever since his death, mother had slipped, succumbing to a heavy dose of mind-numbing morphine to stop the flood of memories. She was the true Mockingjay in that story, beautiful, fiery and fierce when my father was alive, yet now she and her heart had turned to stone with his death.

"I'll do it, Katniss…. I'm sorry for making you open up about what's obviously such a personal thing, and I'm sorry for being flat out nosy….but I've never seen someone draw so beautifully as your father's sketch of this…." He gestures to the picture, holding it up and tracing the lines with his fingers as I watch him.

"Thank you….Peeta, thank you", I whisper, a barely audible sound in the quiet room.

* * *

Well! Let me know how this was and please review! It's the only way a writer knows if they're doing something right or just failing. Like I said, this will be a short fic, but with long-ish chapters. Just a little side project for me before the start of next semester and exams… Reviews Welcomed and Loved!

Follow me on Tumblr! SheepAmongstWolves12! Love to Stacylk!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

Just a quick note to say thank you to everyone who flagged, reviewed or favoured this story…I honestly didn't write this as anything other than just a boredom breaker and an idea that wouldn't leave my head….That and the idea of Peeta as a tattoo artist has always intrigued me. Anyways, thanks to all who followed this story, so much love to you guys! It may actually be longer than I had initially planned out, but I'll roll with it and guarantee that it will be over before the end of January.

As always, major love, kisses and hugs to my fabulous best friend and a marvellous beta, Stacylk! Her patience and delightfully belly aching commentary! She is the Katniss to my Prim! LOVE YA BIG SIS!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Hunger Games, the characters, settings, anything! I just occasionally like to borrow them and put them in my own awkward and strange circumstances.

* * *

I'd passed Finnick on the way in, chatting away to some blonde haired girl who looks as if she wants to eat him. His eyes meet mine, the cheeky glint appearing in the seaweed coloured eyes before waving me on through and turning his attention back to the blonde with the impressive chest.

The sweat on my palms does not go away, no matter how many times I furiously rub them on my jeans, the friction isn't helping and my nerves are unsettled. My second time in Peeta's waiting room is more unnerving than it was two days ago when we first met. Fidgeting constantly, my fingers knot together, but it doesn't seem to offer me any sort of relief or freedom from my anxiety. The coffee that I brought with me sits untouched in the disposable polystyrene cup, getting colder by each passing second until it becomes unpalatable and bitter to taste.

I pick through the collection of magazines in the dimly lit room as I wait, my fingers growing increasingly frustrated and so impatient that I end up picking, scraping and gnawing the black nail polish off as a means of passing the time and subsequent boredom.

And then I spy it; the book that I thought was completely out of place in a tattoo studio. My fingers relish the feel of the new cover, the crisp smell of paper, the spine intact and rigid; it hasn't been read yet, it's in perfect condition.

I'm so engrossed in this internal debate, that I don't notice Peeta's light tread when he enters the room and looks down at me, his voice quiet in the light of the room.

"Hey, how are we today?" he says, bright and cheerful.

He sports a blue lumber jack shirt with a white vest underneath with sleeves that end at the elbow. Black jeans hang off of his hips, complete with a comic strip Marvel characters belt is threaded through his belt hoops; a new set of Vans completes the look.

I look at his arms and I see no tattoos, no ink, no colour, just fine golden hair on his forearms and many colonies of freckles.

_A tattoo artist without any ink seems odd, really ,really odd…Or maybe I just can't see them? Maybe he has some further down…._

Back in the reality of the room, I splutter out a "I'mgoodhow'reyou?" and promptly drop my eyes from Peeta's crystal gaze to the floor, feeling the colour dot across my cheeks.

"I have your Mockingjay drawn out for you. I hope you'll like it, Katniss, I really put everything I had into copying your father's drawing and putting my own spin on it, but only tweaking it a little. I didn't know if you wanted colour in it so I took the liberty of making two version….you know, so that it fits in with the legend…"

Peeta runs a hand through his hair and it's cute how a little pink flushes his face in colour.

I must look confused because Peeta goes on to explain further.

"You know,…how the bird was made of molten flame yet it had all the features on the elements within it? Well I made two versions, one with colour…"

He holds up the sheet of paper up so that I can see it and I feel my jaw come unhinged. Not only has Peeta drawn my Mockingjay, but he's made her so much more than I ever imagined. My fingers touch the paper, and the drawing seems to come alive with the contact. Thick, golden plumage, highlighted with streaks of what appears to be molten flame spread throughout the page. I notice the eyes, grey and unsettling, just like the storm I had compared them to.

"Peeta…." I am awestruck at the drawing, fascinated at the similarity to Finnick's mermaid that I'd seen two days ago, making a mental note to ask later.

"You like it? Really? I drew out another in black and white… you know…for when her heart broke and she turned to stone…and the reason why it rains so much here…." He smiles at the end, remembering how I'd laughed at his remark when I'd first told him about the legend and the reason why I wanted the tattoo in the first place.

"Peeta… these are really something…they're so vivid, so captivating….they look as if they really will fly off of the page and into real life…I don't know which one I want…" my eyes are looking at the drawings with such intensity, perhaps I'm scared they'll vanish off of the page if I blink, they're that believable.

This only causes Peeta's blush to grow and he abruptly tries to shift the attention from his drawings to something else, noticing the book lying out on the coffee table.

"You're a fan?" he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

"He's my favourite writer, I studied The Sun Also Rises" my finger strums the front cover of the book, "In my first year at college…it's what made me fall in love with Hemingway"

"Where'd you go...seeing as how you already know that I went to Pats from our last encounter?"

"I started in Trinity, then moved to Ivy for second and third year…as and it's not my fault that your fancy certificates and diplomas caught my eye…they practically begged me to look at them, Dr Mellark…forgive me for noticing your PhD"

There's a tinge of flintiness in my voice, and for once, I don't sound like a foolish idiotic schoolgirl, but rather a smooth, sophisticated femme fatal. I am Katniss Everdeen, flirt extraordinaire.

"What's so funny?" I ask, confused at his laughter.

"Nothing….come, lie up on this" he pulls out the massage bed and I leave the novella down on the coffee table and pace over to the bed whilst Peeta runs the drawing through a thermal fax before gingerly rolling my shirt up and tucking it under the cup of my bra and positioning myself stomach side down on the bed.

I watch as the thermal fax quickly copies my Mockingjay, my beautiful molten bird, the last remaining link that I have to my father. But of course, I hadn't told Peeta the entire truth or the full reason behind my wanting to have the creature etched onto my skin. That can stay between me and no one else.

I'm distracted as Peeta's face transforms and lights up in a Cheshire cat grin and he starts snickering at me as he holds a large mirror sideways so that I can look at the position of the stencil.

And continues to snigger, his hair tumbling into his eyes, utterly adorable yet fucking enraging at the same time.

"You've seen my PhD? Oh Katniss, I'm grateful for your compliments, but we haven't even had our first date yet…I was brought up as a gentleman…." the snickering continues. He holds out the stencil to me before applying some sort of solution to my skin before pressing the paper there, his touch gentle, but the mere trace of his fingertips through the paper, seeping into my flesh is sweet fucking agony.

It only gets worse.

_I feel as out of place as a polar bear in the Bahamas. The beautiful man has baffled me completely._

"Oh course I've seen it! It's there for everyone to see! It's huge! You can't miss it even if you tried Peeta!" I plead feeling my face flush red, as if he's after reading my diary from when I was eight years old or that time that Prim found a condom in my parents' room when she was younger and asked mother what was she doing with a pile of sweet wrappers in her bedside table.

Finnick walks in, takes notice of me in my near topless state, cocking an eyebrow at me in what seems to be his signature move, before taking further notice at my Mockingjay, when Peeta slowly peels the paper away, revealing the outline.

"Black bra, white t-shirt…what are you asking for Katniss? Someone to enter you into a wet t-shirt competition? …Because I would definitely be the judge…" he winks in my direction.

"Katniss has seen my PhD, Finn…" says Peeta innocently, before sniggering at his equally gorgeous best friend, and cocks an eyebrow in my direction.

"Oh Katniss, Sweetheart….If you think Peety here has a PhD, you're going to be terrified when you see my…credentials….." grins Finnick, his hands moving towards his belt, as if he was going to undo it….

_Shit._

Realisation hits me and I immediately swing for Peeta, meaning to hit him hard on the shoulder, but he turns suddenly and catches my palm with his hand, covering mine easily. My position on the bed is thrown off balance and I topple over, my feet betraying me causing me to end up falling into Peeta's chest and accidently (on purpose) burying my nose into his white wife beater top beneath the lumberjack shirt.

He smells like old paper, some sort of disinfecting agent, lemons and skin. My nose rubs briefly against the small amount of darkened chest hair that curls against my freckled nose and my eyes shut only for a short period before I severe the contact whilst Peeta's hands now steady me, his hands ; one on my hip, the other knotted in mine help me in the search for equilibrium.

Then I remember that my shirt is still rolled up and tucked into my bra cups, revealing the magic eight bar that pierces my belly button, but more importantly I feel Peeta's hand on my waist, his fingers subconsciously holding me against his body, feeling extraordinarily warm, and not only from the embarrassment of standing nearly semi naked with an incredibly beautiful man that I hardly know, but also from the feel of him, his arms, tight and strong around me when I broke down the last time, telling him the story of the tattoo.

His eyes meet mine for a short second and I look at his before his hands slip away from my skin. The moment passes us and the realisation of the letters in PhD makes sense to me and I feel my face shifting into a grimace.

"YOU GUYS ARE AWFUL!"

"Ahahahaha! She gets it! She finally gets it!" cries Finnick, his eyes creasing with the laughter, as Peeta joins in, his own voice loud and booming like thunder.

"Sorry Katniss…We're jerks, we know…" Peeta sighs, his hair tumbling into his eyes, like a puppy that's been abandoned. Now that I'm so close to him, I see the remains of what appears to be minute little scars, probably from teenage acne or some other sort of skin condition, he also has a small plug in his ear, hidden behind the mass of blonde curls

_Oh course it would be something inappropriate, they're two young twenty- something year old guys…all they think about is toilet humour….How could I've fallen for that joke?! PhD….Pretty Huge Dick….Of course, what else could it mean?!_

"Well this has been fun and all kids, but I really must get back to the front of house… there's some small, tight bodied blonde girl waiting to get her thigh tattooed with the Caterpillar from Tim Burton's Alice, ….So I'll leave the introvert to get lost in his scribbles!"

"Try to stay away from her Wonderland, Finn…" Peeta warns, but cracks on the last word when his eyes meet Finnick's.

Finnick winks at him before saying "Who knows? I may do an Alice and get lost in her Wonderland chasing the white rabbit, before the day is out…But you're still my one and only Peet, besides, I've left you in good hands…" he winks in my direction and as hard as I try not to smile at Finnick, I'm completely powerless against him.

"Leave me her address in the book so I know where to go to haul your ass into work tomorrow!" Peeta calls out as Finnick shuts the door to the Peeta's studio.

I crawl back onto the bed, but not before I pick up the book off the coffee table and start reading again, this time, lying on my back, awaiting the feel of Peeta's hands on my delicate skin, yet not allowing myself to focus on the imminent pain that I know tattoos bring.

He takes a few minutes to get the machine set up, adjusting the ink re-fills and tests the machine, buzzing it on, bringing it to life.

_Why am I doing this?!_

"Shall we get started?" Peeta asks his eyes impossibly blue.

I must be trembling because Peeta notices my hand shaking with the tremors of the pain I'm expecting. I never volunteer for pain, but with great beauty comes a price, and some pain was worth living through to get to the end.

"Katniss, we don't have to do this today…I take it that this is your first time in the chair?" his hand is on my wrist, rubbing small comfort circles on my skin, trying to relax my nerves.

"I want to, Peeta, I ….I need to do this, I know it sounds weird but I have to have this on me…Promise me you'll so it, regardless of how much I bitch or moan or how…how nonsensical I sound, but please Peeta…promise me you'll keep going"

"Okay….okay…but if I'm going to tattoo you, you're going to tell me everything about you, and your mysterious, nonsensical ways Miss Everdeen" he smiles, crossing around the back of the bed and reaching into a drawer of his desk and pulling out a pair of latex gloves and puts them on.

He plants a chair level with my body and carries the machine over, placing the delicate machine on a nearby table, buzzing the machine back onto life.

"It won't be too sore, I promise" he says, his forehead creasing. Poor Peeta looks as if he is actually concerned for well-being, although he doesn't know that I'm a hardy little bag of steel. I may be small, but I'm certainly fierce.

"How about we do something to take your mind off of it for the beginning? Until you get used to it?" he asks, thoughtful and careful of my movements.

All this time, I notice that Peeta doesn't touch me, but gives me my personal space. If I want to stop this at any stage, he will let me flee. Albeit, I will have a partial tattoo on my skin, but I've taken precautions for this moment, saving up an adequate amount in the bank for the laser treatment if I don't go through with it.

"If you keep still, tell me all about yourself, you can keep it, the book that is…how does that sound?" he asks, eyebrows raised, eyes beaming.

I nod in agreement.

"One condition…. You tell me everything about you in return"

"I'm an open book, there's nothing oblique or mysterious about me….I'm your average Joe, trying to make an honest buck at what he loves to do…" he looks down at my skin and I feel his hands on my ribcage, but its feather light in comparison to what I thought it felt like moments before.

I can't help but roll my eyes at his comment.

"Peeta please, what kind of ordinary Joe gets a PhD from the most prestigious college in the country yet opens up a tattoo shop with his crazy best friend, has no visible tattoos and has an apparent love of Penguin Classics?!" I ask exasperatedly as he continues to disregard my gaze, instead focusing on my skin.

His eyes tell me that I've touched some serious nerves, but his mouth coils up into a smile, clearly proud of his achievements.

"Notice something, Katniss?" there's a twinge of humour in his voice as his eyes return back to mine, and I look down at my side.

Its only when I don't reply that I notice the feel of the needle on my skin, hear the buzzing of the machine, feel the soothing effect of Peeta's hands on my skin that I realise he's already started tattooing me.

He's outlined the Mockingjay's features, the beak, eyes, and the feathers on top of her head.

"And as for the questions you have about me….there are answers, but you'll only find out in time" he says, a slight tone of mystery in his voice as he wipes a cloth over the area he's ingrained into my skin, feeling the ink smudge and blot against skin as he clears away the excess.

"For now, I just have one answer for you" he asks, wiping the cloth over my skin one more time before starting the process all over again.

Peeta looks at me with his large blue, doe-like eyes before innocently leaning in and whispering in my ear, tickling the hair there

"It's not a doctoral degree….but I do have a PhD if you get what I mean…" he smirks.

I look to find that lovely pink glow flush his face before he buries himself back into his work, clearly embarrassed at his own admission. I can't stop my face from splitting into a grin from ear to ear, even if Peeta has just said something completely inappropriate, I can relish in his humour before deciding to play along.

"Hmmm….Maybe if we do end up having that date, I'll get to judge for myself, Peeta…" I wink back.

He positively glows.

* * *

Thanks again to Stacylk and to all you fabulous people who continue to read, follow and review this story, thank you guys so much! I will try to reply to as many reviews as possible. Direct all questions to my tumblr : SheepAmongstWolves12 or PM me for more details or what you'd like to read!Until next week!:)


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